Peaches and Demons of the Inner kind
by TaelynHawker
Summary: And Dean, stupid-fast-food-junkie Dean, had a thing; an obscene and sexual thing, obviously, for Georgia peaches. Warnings: Total PWP, hard M rating, Wincest don't like, don't read . It's fun fruit porn. -


-1**Title: **Peaches and Demons(of the Inner kind)

**Author: **Taelyn Hawker

**Pairing: **Dean/Sam

**Warnings: **Incest and PWP, or.. PPWP (Peaches and Porn without Plot), First time.

**Summary: **It's obscene. And it's been going on for two days.

**Author's Notes: **I asked for bunnies, cause none were hopping for me. **linda3m** asked for sex first and then threw out the tidbit about peaches repelling demons in Japanese culture. And this is what came of it.

………………………………...

It's making him crazy.

The sound of slurping, the hint of his pink tongue as it licks out to catch the juices that would otherwise dribble down a strong, stubbled chin. Fingers glistening wetly against the pink, fuzzy skin. His even teeth bite in almost gently, lips pursing against flesh.

It's obscene. And it's been going on for two days.

It doesn't help that Dean's barefoot and shirtless, one leg propped up on the edge of Sam's chair and resting just between his thighs, which wouldn't mean anything except that Sam wants to climb up his leg and straddle him.

But he can't stop looking. Another slurping sound, another lick.

"Can't you eat that thing like a normal person?" He finally snaps.

Dean looks so startled and confused that it would be amusing if Sam weren't so damn annoyed. One eyebrow raises questioningly.

"Huh?" Eloquent as always, his big brother.

When Sam doesn't answer immediately Dean takes another perversely sensual bite of the peach in his hand. Sam closes his eyes and puts his hands over his face. But that just makes the sound that much worse. He opens them again only to see Dean licking over the fruit, catching all the juice that's running down it's skin.

Dean raises his eyes from the newspaper he's been studying, trying to find a hunt, and stares at Sam.

"Dude." Dean's voice is muffled by the stupid fruit. He finally pulls the peach away from his mouth, but then the juice is dripping down his fingers, rolling down to his wrist and Sam just wants to-.

He stands up and nearly knocks the chair over as he does. But turning away from his brother, leaving him sitting at the small table in the corner of the room, and moving towards the beds only presents him with an entire basket full of the obscene fruit sitting on the bedside table between their two beds.

Sam glares at the basket; a gift from the family they had saved from a spirit who apparently liked killing little kids. It had been a hard hunt and it had gone wrong in every way it could. Sam had the stitches up his left side and on his forearm to prove it, but in the end the kid had been fine and the bones where salted and torched. The family had offered all kinds of things as a reward, but Sam wouldn't let them take anything from them. Then the teenage daughter, who had stared harder at Dean than any fourteen year old had any right to, had brought out the basket of peaches. And Dean, stupid-fast-food-junkie Dean, had a thing; an obscene and sexual thing, obviously, for Georgia peaches.

And all of that had led to this; two days laying low in this motel room while Sam's injuries healed, Dean sitting at the table in his bare feet looking at newspapers from three different states and practically eating out the stupid fucking peach.

"Dude, what is your problem?" Dean's voice, much closer than Sam had expected, makes a shiver run up his spine.

Really, this lusting after his brother thing was getting ridiculous if he couldn't control himself enough not to get hard at the sound of his voice. Or watching him eat fruit. Sam sighs and lets his weight fall down onto the bed. He closes his eyes, feeling a familiar pounding in his head.

"Sammy, man, talk to me. What's wrong? Your injuries?" A cool hand grasps the side of his face, Dean's fingers curling around his jaw. "You feel warm. You think you got an infection?" There is another pause. "Damn it, I told you we should have just stopped at that first motel so I could fix you up."

The sound of rummaging and Sam opens his eyes to see Dean bent over the bags at the end of the other bed searching for something, one hand held up and in it, the fucking peach. Sam groans and closes his eyes, hears the rattle of pills and realizes Dean's pulled out their stash of generic antibiotics.

The hand is back again, touching his face before moving down to lift his shirt.

"I'm fine, man. It's not the wounds." He finally manages to get out. Dean's hand settles just under the stitches and Sam opens his eyes to see a look of intense worry on Dean's face. He shakes his head, feels bad that Dean's worried when all that's wrong is that Sam has some serious issues. "I'm fine. Sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

The half eaten peach is on the table now and Dean's other hand is hovering near Sam's side, not quite touching.

"Something's up, dude, I'm not stupid. And I know you." Dean's all frowns and furrowed brows now. "Talk."

Sam stands, brushing Dean's hands off of him, and glares down at his brother who is crouched now on the ground at his feet. Sam opens his mouth to say something but the sudden realization that is brother is _right there_, silences him. All Dean would have to do is move his head and look straight in front of him instead of up at Sam and he'd be face to face with Sam's hard on. He feels a flush creep up his face and he knows he should look away from his brother before Dean can get a read on him.

Dean's eyes flutter close, his mouth falling open just slightly as he takes a deep breath, and Sam sees something in his brother's eyes just before they close that make him think _too late, too late, he saw, he knows_. Dean loses his balance in his crouch and grabs Sam's hips to steady himself and Sam can't help the gasp that passes his lips. The feel of Dean's hand grabbing hard onto him makes his cock jerk.

"Jesus, Sammy, why didn't you just say something?" Dean's voice is low and guttural, and Sam closes his eyes and bites down hard on his bottom lip.

He shakes his head, silent and refusing to open his eyes, even when he feels Dean's hands tighten on his hips and pull him back down until he's sitting on the bed.

"Open your eyes, man." Sam lowers his face, lets his hair fall over it like a protective curtain, like he used to when he was little and Dean would scold him. It was always worse when Dean would scold him. "Sam. Open them."

Sam's jaw clenches and he raises his head reluctantly, meeting Dean's eyes.

"Dude, all this? The bad moods, the bitch face? Hating on that little girl? Because of this?" There's a snort of laughter and Sam glares hard at the smirk on Dean's face. "Okay, okay, put the face away." Dean raises his hands in front of him as if in surrender and Sam sighs in relief that his hands are finally off him.

"I don't want to talk about it, Dean. Just forget it." Sam grates out between teeth clenched so hard it's making his jaw hurt.

"Stop being a bitch and listen to what I'm fucking saying." Dean snaps, and Sam has no more notice than that before Dean's mouth is on his, warm and sticky and sweet with the juice of the peach he'd been eating. 

It isn't until Dean's tongue sweeps against his lower lip that he thinks to move his hands and push Dean away. But Dean's having none of it, he growls low and deep in his throat and then he's climbing over Sam as he shoves him down onto the mattress. It groans and whines against the movement. Dean's mouth is hungry on his, demanding and deliberate. He opens Sam's mouth with his tongue and plunges in like a starved man. It steals Sam's breath, leaves him gasping and choking and Dean actually has to pull away for a moment while Sam gets his breath back.

"Stupid, jackass." Dean mutters before he lowers his head again, licking and biting at Sam's neck.

He's hard against Sam's stomach where he straddles him and Sam bucks up into the welcome heat of his older brother's body. Sam had had thoughts about stopping this a moment ago, but that was before Dean started growling and biting, hands digging into Sam's hips and sides as if he wants to claw and mark him, though they're still careful of the stitches on his left side. Dean's hands start tugging at his t-shirt, but before Sam can pull away enough to pull it over his head Dean has his fingers dug into the hem and he's pulling until the fabric rips neatly in two, leaving Sam bare-chested and breathing hard and staring at his brother as if he's lost his god damned mind.

"Fuck, Dean." Because it's hot as hell that Dean is staring at him like he'd fucking devour him if he could.

"Dude, you have no idea. No idea. And I thought- freaking hell, man, if you had just said something. Thought it was all me." Something passes over Dean's face then, something like fear and worry and Sam is shocked to find that it's easy to reach up and grab the back of Dean's neck, pull him back down until he can press his lips to Dean's.

"Sorry, man. I was freaked." He mutters against Dean's full lips, licking at them, tasting the sticky sweetness of the fruit itself. "Fucking peaches."

Dean pulls his head away and lifts his chest away from Sam, still straddling his lap. The weight of Dean settling against his cock makes Sam's head fall back onto the pillow as he groans.

"It was the peaches, huh?" Dean asks him, and he has that look of earnest questioning, like he really wants the answer to whatever he's asking, and Sam loves that face.

"You were obscene." He says dryly, hands creeping up to grasp Dean's hips, fingers caressing the sharp edge of bone and carefully toned muscle lovingly. 

Dean's staring down at Sam dumbly.

"Two fucking days of sucking on that stupid fruit." Sam tells Dean, as if it makes sense. And it does. To Sam. Dean just smirks.

And reaches out to the basket, grasping another of the fruit in his hands and biting into it before Sam can stop him. It's ripe and juicy and spilling down Dean's chin, dripping wetly onto Sam's bare stomach. That's about all that Sam can take. His hands dig into Dean's hips so hard he sees his brother wince, but Sam raises up and his lips are crashing into Dean's before Dean can say anything.

The loud moan that's breathed between them could come from either one or both of them, but Sam can't tell. Dean's mouth is sweet with peaches and bitter with coffee and fucking addictive with something that is entirely and uniquely _Dean_. His hands leave Dean's hips to pull at his belt until he hears the metal click and give and then he's pushing at the button at the top of Dean's jeans. He's desperate and starving and Dean's body is hot and hard against his. He arches off the bed to press every inch of his body against Dean's.

"Jesus-fuck-shit-_Sam_." His name spills from Dean's lips like a curse and a prayer.

Somewhere in the tangle of the two of them he manages to get Dean's jeans off, moans loud and has to close his eyes for a moment when he realizes Dean's got nothing on underneath the worn denim and while he's distracted Dean manages to get Sam's jeans off too. Naked skin to naked skin, Dean's ass pressed against his hard cock, Sam thinks his body is burning up with want, need. He's wanted this from the moment he sat in the front seat of the Impala again after four years of trying to make sense of a life without Dean, a life he'd thought he'd wanted. Maybe he's wanted this for forever, he doesn't know anymore, because Dean's tongue and teeth are wicked and Dean knows every spot on Sam's body that makes him incoherent.

He licks and then sucks at the curve of Sam's jaw and Sam shudders underneath him, hands tightening convulsively on his hips. And his hands moving up and down Sam's arms, fingers digging into tight muscle at random and it hurts in a way that makes Sam want to come just from that. Dean's head lifts and their eyes meet and Dean's are blown out, all pupil, and burning. He pushes his ass back into Sam's cock, just the slightest roll of his hips, and Sam comes so suddenly it rips his breath away and leaves him desperate for air. It's so good it hurts. He's loud, knows that anyone else in the motel must hear him, but he doesn't care because Dean just keeps rocking back against him, hands still moving on Sam's arms, eyes still caught onto Sam's, and Sam can't close his or look away.

Then Dean is off him, moving backwards with the awkward grace that only Dean has, crawling between Sam's legs to lick lightly at Sam's sensitive cock while his fingers scoop some of Sam's come. It's nearly filthy and it makes Sam start hardening all over again. He's always wondered how easy it would be for Dean to make him come. There have been times where thinking about it has made him so hard that it only took a few quick twists of his hand before he came against the shower wall. Dean mouth is hot and slick as it swallows Sam down as far as he can, and Sam's distracted by watching it, by the way Dean's eyes never leave his, and he almost doesn't feel Dean's finger as it presses into him.

"Oh fuck. Dean." He lets his head roll back, breaking eye contact, but it's too much; Dean's mouth on him and his finger inside him. _Fuck fuck fuck. _

Dean's mouth leaves his cock, and another fingers joins the first as it pushes in and out of Sam, stretching and twisting and burning in a way that makes Sam want to scream. Dean's free hand squeezes his hip and Sam opens his eyes to see Dean leaning over him, watching his face with a look of almost wonder.

"Freaking beautiful, Sammy." He says quietly, and Sam might have mocked him, but is face is serious. "Fucking surreal." A third finger pushes into him, and Sam bites his lower lips hard enough to taste the copper of his blood. "Jesus, Sam, don't- fuck." Dean breaks eye contact this time, lowers his head until it rests against Sam's stomach. "Can't wait, shit, you good, Sam?"

Sam's so good he doesn't have words for it. He bucks his hips; against the pressure of Dean's chest where it's trapped his hard cock, back into the fingers working in and out of him. He might get out something that sounds like 'more, now' but he's not sure.

All Sam knows is that Dean is kneeling between his legs, pulling Sam's legs up around his hips. The feel of his brother's cock against his ass makes him shiver and moan, head thrown to one side and then the other. Then Dean's pressing in slow and careful and it's not enough, so Sam digs his heels into Dean's back and pulls. Dean hisses and cries out something that might be Sam's name, but he's finally in; deep and hard and shaking and fuck it burns but it's the best feeling Sam's ever had.

He looks up at his brother, at Dean's flushed face, his lips open just a little, eyes wide and wild. Sam manages a small smile, moves his hands to pull at Dean's arms until his brother presses his hips in even tighter so that he can reach Sam's lips when Sam pushes up from the bed. Dean's mouth is desperate, the way he knew it would be, had always thought of it being. Dean starts moving then, mouth locked on Sam's, hands grasping painfully onto his hips so that Sam knows there will be bruises tomorrow. He moves carefully, until Sam growls at him, low in his throat. Then he changes angles, pulls Sam's hips so that he's just a little further down the bed and closer to Dean, and then Dean's pounding into him; hard, even strokes that hit Sam's prostate every time and leave him shaking and seeing white around the edges of his vision.

"Fuck, Sam. Tight, jesus, fucking- fucking perfect. Shit." Dean's words ride the gasp of his breath, ghosting across Sam's face as they press their foreheads together and just move against one another.

There's sweat between them and the smell of sex and come and fucking peaches. Dean's fucking perfect at sex, knows every place to touch Sam, knows when to dig into Sam's hips and pull him closer. Sam's not sure he'll ever be able to mock Dean for his confidence again, because- _christ- _Dean changes angles again, manhandles Sam like he's not four inches taller and heavier, and his thrusts are short and fast. The taste of the stupid peach lingers at the corner of Sam's mouth from kissing Dean and he reaches out his tongue to collect the small taste of it only to have Dean bend himself impossibly to suck Sam's tongue into his mouth and groan.

It's the feeling of Dean coming inside of him in short, hot bursts, the sound Dean makes that's fucking _unreal_, the feel of Dean's sweat slicked hair between his fingers as Sam pulls him closer so he can kiss him harder, that sends Sam over the edge. He comes so hard his vision blurs and he closes his eyes and rides it out, Dean still pumping into him, bringing Sam the whole way through until he lets out a high, keening sound and digs his nails into Dean's neck to make him stop.

He's gasping, trying to catch his breath, and his muscles are twitching and aching. Dean's hot and heavy above him, not quite leaning all his weight down on Sam. His face is buried in Sam's neck, where he's still kissing and licking at sweat-salted skin.

"Dean." Sam gasps out, needs to see his brother's face and know that this is really okay.

"Yeah." Dean answers and he lifts his head, green eyes meeting Sam's and there's no question left to be answered. Dean looks more content than Sam's seen him in a long while, in years maybe. "Yeah, Sammy." Dean answers anyways, knows Sam's questions without Sam having to tell him like he almost always has. "It's good, it's all good. You and me and this. Fuck. It's more than good." He pauses for a minute and his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. "You good?" Sam can't answer right away, he's mesmerized by Dean's lips, and he feels Dean stiffen. "Fuck, Sammy. Why didn't you say no?" Dean sounds angry and confused and he's pulling off of and out of Sam.

Sam scrabbles to grab him, fights off Dean's attempts at freeing himself from Sam's large hands and pulls his brother back down onto him. They're sticky with come and the juice of the peach that's gotten smeared all over them, slick with sweat and it would be disgusting if it wasn't so _hot_. He kisses Dean hard, licking his lips over Dean's fruit-sweet ones and moaning at the taste.

He doesn't hate the peach so much at that moment. Then he roles them over and feels the hard rock of something digging painfully into his thigh.

"What the-?" Dean falls back and out of his arms and Sam sits up and moves just enough to reveal the peach crushed under his thigh. "Dean." He turns his head to glare at his brother who looks down and lets out a loud laugh. "Fucking peaches." Sam mutters as he grabs it and flings it across the room, ignoring the wet sound of it hitting the far wall.

He settles back down onto the bed, next to Dean, lets his head rest on the same pillow. Dean turns his head and they stare at each other for a long moment.

"How long?" Sam asks, reaching his arm across Dean's stomach so that his fingers brush over his hip bone. Sam's obsessed with that hip, wants to lean over and lick it and bite it, maybe even more than he wants Dean to answer his questions.

Dean grunts. "Before Stanford. Too long." He says, still watching Sam carefully, eyes wide.

"Why didn't you-?" Sam begins, but stops.

"Why didn't _you_?" Dean demands, though there's no anger in his voice. "We're pretty fucked up, Sammy." Dean says it matter of factly, as if he's telling Sam they're Hunters and they have a job to do. Like it's something that just _is_. Sam nods his head.

"Yeah, pretty fucked up." Sam breaths before leaning his head up to kiss Dean again. "Gonna blame it on dad." He says with a wide smile, fighting off giddy laughter. "And the peaches."

"Dude, just blame the peaches." Dean tells him and Sam nods again.

Although seriously, if anyone ever find out, he's blaming it on dad. Much easier than explaining the peaches.

"You know in Japan they say peaches can ward off Demons." Sam tells him instead of arguing. Dean rolls his eyes.

"Geek."

"Greaser." Sam shoots back, grinning.

They're silent for a moment, smiles turning up the corners of both their lips. Finally, Dean's smirk broadens, he looks at Sam from the corner of his eye.

"I didn't know you had a thing for fruit. Although given the fact that you've been lusting after your bro-."

"Shut up, Dean." Sam says warningly. Dean smirks at him and when he rolls over Sam and starts reaching for the fucking basket of peaches again Sam grabs him first.

It's a while before they leave the bed and by the time they do they're both sticky and disgusting and they shower together which doesn't really leave them much cleaner before the hot water runs out.

They sleep in the other bed, Sam sprawled over Dean, hogging most of the bed and the covers. And Dean doesn't complain in the morning.

Sam figures right then that it's love, and yeah they're brothers, but he doesn't really care about that.

………………………………...

The End. -


End file.
